


Say Yes

by Daegaer



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Consent, Humor, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-16
Updated: 2010-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-16 00:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8079424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crawford just wants Schuldig to say one little word. Schuldig has a different little word in mind.





	

”Say yes,” Crawford ordered, trying to wriggle his hand down the front of Schuldig’s pants.

“No,” Schuldig said, doing some wriggling of his own and finally rolling over the top of the breakfast bar to freedom. “Coffee?” he added, holding up the pot in a hostile manner.

“No, thanks,” Crawford said, foreseeing where the scalding liquid would go.

*

“Say yes,” Crawford gasped, trying to shove Schuldig to his knees.

“ _No_ ,” Schuldig said, and quickly tied his hands together with the towel. “Christ, can’t I even have a shower in peace?”

“I don’t mind being hog-tied,” Crawford said with a winning smile.

Schuldig rolled his eyes and strolled out of the bathroom naked, grabbing up his leave-in conditioner as he went.

*

“Please say yes,” Crawford said with as much humility as he thought would be believable.

“Did someone remember the magic word?” Schuldig said. “Is your mummy very proud of her little Brad?”

Crawford narrowed his eyes in irritation and pounced, pinning Schuldig down on the couch. “Say yes.”

“No,” Schuldig said sweetly, and kneed him. While Crawford lay curled up in agony, Schuldig finally gained control of the TV remote.

*

“Fine, don’t say yes, I don’t give a shit, I’m over you,” Crawford said.

“Good,” Schuldig said, keeping the table between them.

“I’ll sleep with Farfarello.”

“Don’t ask him for a blowjob, he bites.”

Crawford looked at him in horror. “You screwed Farfarello?”

“Prig. I knew you were bluffing.”

Crawford calculated the chance of grabbing Schuldig if he vaulted over the table. Schuldig picked up a chair.

“Telepath,” he said sarcastically. “Really very fast-moving violent telepath.”

Crawford strategically withdrew in search of a sandwich instead.

*

“Why won’t you say yes?” Crawford said as they drove down the highway.

“Crawford, _please_ ,” Schuldig snapped. “I’m trying to overtake this granny in a way that’ll force her into the path of the ambulance, don’t distract me.”

“I’m just curious.”

“Fine. It’s a social experiment to see if your balls will spontaneously combust through continual denial.”

Crawford looked at him in disgust. “You are so full of shit.”

“If you’d stop jerking off to fantasies of me doing the Macarena the data’d be gathered much faster.” Schuldig swerved round the car in front so close that Crawford couldn’t keep from a sharply-indrawn breath, even though he could see they wouldn’t be involved in the crash.

“I really am over you,” he muttered as Schuldig giggled in pleasure at the resulting carnage in the rear-view mirror.

“You _wish_ ,” Schuldig crowed.

He was in a good mood, Crawford thought, and might be in a better one if Crawford told him he’d foreseen the crash would end in a fifteen car pile-up. Maybe he’d finally say –

“No,” Schuldig laughed, and shot towards his next target of vehicular homicide.

Crawford sighed, and closed his eyes to better concentrate on the tune of the Macarena.


End file.
